There once was a glass of cold Guinness,
drunk only by the old fart named Inness.
When the icy stout touched his lips,
thoughts of Bessie startled old hips.
Now he’s bouncing and pouncing about.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
There once was a glass of cold Guinness,
drunk only by the old fart named Inness.
When the icy stout touched his lips,
thoughts of Bessie startled old hips.
Now he’s bouncing and pouncing about.